914 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Dec. 3, 1910. 
Y OU know geese—hardy cruisers of 
the skies. They can get away with 
more shot than any other game bird. It 
takes a close, hard shooting gun to pene¬ 
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Two Clean Kills 
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14 other original Lefever inventions. 
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SHOT GUNS 
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Owners of the $28 gun will not trade 
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Write today—now. Lefever Arms Co., 
23 Maltbie Street, Syracuse, New York. 
I 
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Where, When and How to Catch 
Fish on the East Coast of Florida 
By Wm. H. Gregg, of St. Louis, Mo., assisted by Capt. 
John Gardner, of Ponce Park, Mosquito Inlet, Fla. 
With 100 engravings and 12 colored illustrations. 
Cloth. Illustrated. 238 pages. Map. Price, $4.00. 
A visitor to Florida can hardly make the trip without 
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takes, while the colored plates of the tropical fish shown 
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TRAINING vs* BREAKING* 
Practical Dog Training; or. Training vs. Breaking. 
By S. T. Hammond. To which is added a chapter on 
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Price, $1.00. 
FOREST AND STREAM PUBLISHING CO. 
The first book written by an American for American Readers on the 
practical conservation of game. 
WILD FOWL and WADERS 
A Manual on their Conservation by Dwight W. Huntington, Editor of 
“The Amateur Sportsman,” containing 24 remarkable illustrations. 
A BOOK of absorbing interest about wild ducks. Desciibes their 
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without causing them to desert; the preservation of wild geese, woodcock, 
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THE AMATEUR SPORTSMAN CO. 
18-20 East 42d Street New York. N. Y. 
When writing say you saw the- ad. in “Forest and Stream.’’ 
near the same spot; a splendid shot across the 
opening. Two barrels more, the doctor and I 
both taking deliberate aim, meaning to wipe the 
doctor’s eye. Did the bird stop? “Not as we 
knew of.’’ 
"We proceeded cautiously, finger on trigger. 
“There he is, up and straight away. See how 
he towers over those thorn bushes.’’ The doc¬ 
tor’s gun cracks, and here comes in the balance 
of that quotation at the commencement of this 
sketch. Is it Pope or Thompson’s “Seasons”? 
I think the first — 
“Short is his joy, he feels the fiery wound, 
Flutters in blood and panting - beats the ground.” 
But why continue the story? It is about the 
same. George, with his single barrel, did his 
part and got another, I rather guess out of a 
tree, perfectly justifiable. We found the birds 
in plenty, made some fair shots and some atro¬ 
cious misses. Had we had a good grouse dog 
that would warn us where the birds were in 
time and could shoot even a little, I believe it 
safe to say a bag of from twenty to thirty or 
more birds could be made in a day. The birds 
seemed to be everywhere, in threes and twos or 
fours, the singles the exception, unless having 
been put up. J. S. 
MY FIRST BEAR. 
A long time ago we were camped on the 
mountain crest, a party of nearly a dozen mem¬ 
bers, including several ladies, for nearly a week 
busily engaged in picking huckleberries. 
Soon after getting the camp in order several 
members of the party became clamorous for 
fresh venison. The true still-hunter needs but 
little urging, and the next evening found me 
watching a pass across the mountain, half a mile 
distant from camp, and about sunset as a large 
mule deer buck attempted to cross, he caught 
scent of me and bounded off down the moun¬ 
tain, untouched by the bullet I sent in chase of 
him. The rifle shot was heard back in camp, for 
sound travels far through the ghostly silence of 
these hills, and no explanations of mine met their 
approval when I returned to camp without meat. 
They seemed to feel justified in hoping for bet¬ 
ter things from the old uncle. 
It was partly in the hope of redeeming a sorpe- 
what tarnished reputation for marksmanship that 
the following evening found me watching the 
same pass, and in consequence brought me into 
contact with bruin. I was early on the ground, 
and as the light breeze swayed back and forth 
across the mountain, it became a very difficult 
matter to decide upon a proper hiding place to 
the leeward of the small open space through- 
which the game trail ran. A cliff of rock was 
at length selected, the top of which, rising twenty 
feet above that pass, was curtained by the droop¬ 
ing limbs of a fir tree, affording excellent cover 
and a fine view of the trail thirty yards beyond. 
Climbing to the top of the rock I seated myself 
in a comfortable position, and when a careful 
survey of all the open ground far down the 
mountain side to the westward had failed to in¬ 
dicate the whereabouts of a single deer, I leaned 
back against a projecting ledge and resigned my¬ 
self to that silent communion with nature known 
only to those deeply in love with the wilderness. 
Who shall describe the charm of these day 
dreams, so fascinating to the watchful and si¬ 
lently waiting still-hunter? Noting without ef- 
